


The flowers have come

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Genderbending, Genderswap, Girl!Martino, Girl!Niccolò, High School, Romantic Comedy, Rule 63, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25031836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: It doesn't start off in the best way between them.Marti has seen her around: it's a bit hard not to, to be fair, what with the magnetic green eyes and long dark curls, the straight nose of a Greek goddess. The mysterious sketchbook she seems to carry around everywhere she goes.Marti is curious to take a peek, but not curious enough to go up to her and start a conversation. She's always with that chequered shirt guy anyway, probably her boyfriend.Whatever.
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 72
Kudos: 66





	1. Basketball sucks

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a WIP, but I'm hoping that by splitting it into chapters I might be inspired to finish it. Fingers crossed.

It doesn't start off in the best way between them.

Marti has seen her around: it's a bit hard not to, to be fair, what with the magnetic green eyes and long dark curls, the straight nose of a Greek goddess. The mysterious sketchbook she seems to carry around everywhere she goes.

Marti is curious to take a peek, but not curious enough to go up to her and start a conversation. She's always with that chequered shirt guy anyway, probably her boyfriend.

Whatever.

Point is: she's in the fifth year, she has no business being in the school yard while IVB is having gym class. Also, basketball sucks, Marti is much better at football. And it's all Elia's fault anyway.

It goes like this: Marti misses an easy shot, Elia teases her, she shows him the finger.

"Not my fault you play like a girl," he grins, because he _knows_ it will make her see red, and she has enough.

She throws the ball right at his head – hard.

She misses again.

A muffled cry, the heavy thud of the sketchbook hitting the ground, hands flying up to hold her nose. Her eyes going wide in shock as he she looks at her fingers drenched in blood.

Marti is horrified.

She makes to go up to her to apologise, offer to take her... to the bathroom, or the janitor, or somewhere they can help her, but she doesn't get the time.

A crowd of knights in shining armour beat her to it. Ten or so boys, all talking at the same time, all world-renowned experts in treating nosebleeds. She gets a few judging looks too, as if she did this on purpose.

She stops in her tracks, hurt and a little bit annoyed – but mainly guilty about feeling annoyed. She pointedly pretends not to see the way Gio is gesturing for her to come closer and apologise to the girl, though she knows she should.

She looks to Eva for support.

"Ridiculous," Eva whispers, shaking her ponytail in disdain. "God, look at them. How can you be that desperate?"

"They're trying to help?" Marti says, unconvinced. She's hoping Eva will verbalise her thoughts for her.

Eva does, because she's a good friend.

"They're trying to get laid, more like," she scoffs. "As if a girl like _that_ would ever look at any of them."

... _or me_ , Marti does not say.

"Do you think I should...?"

"Boccia has got it." Eva tilts her chin towards the gym teacher who has somehow managed to part the crowd of boys and is now helping the girl back inside. "Maybe go to her later and apologise? She's in VB, I think."

The bell rings right as Boccia helps the girl up the stairs and into the school building, leaving her with the janitor. The class disperses for recess, though some boys still loiter near the entrance, probably hoping it will earn them brownie points.

Eva points them out to Marti as she's making her way towards the locker rooms, and they both roll their eyes, smiling.

The girl's black sketchbook lies abandoned and forgotten in the middle of the yard, semi-hidden behind the basket pole. Marti takes an uncertain step in that direction.

"Yeah, better do that."

Marti turns around. Gio crosses his arms in front of his chest, an eyebrow raised.

"It'll make you seem less of an asshole."

"Fuck you," Marti says. Though she does walk over and pick it up, dusting it off. "Why didn't _you_ pick it up while you were there offering to lick her boots or whatever you guys were doing earlier?"

"Are you jealous?" He offers her a charming smile. "You're still my favourite, you know that."

"Tell that to Eva."

Gio rolls his eyes.

"Not that kind of favourite." He pauses, considering Marti's words for a moment. "Why, what did Eva say?"

"That you're ridiculous and that girl's too hot for you guys. Which, by the way, she is."

"Okay, but did she talk about me specifically or...?"

Marti rolls her eyes.

"Will you stop using me as a messenger and tell Eva you want to be together instead of whatever-this-is so I can live in peace for five seconds?" She smiles sarcastically. "Thanks."

He scoffs and shoves at her shoulder, but only mumbles: "See you in class, asshole," as he makes his way towards the boys' locker rooms. Marti smiles.

She won this one, she thinks.

*

There was a time – not even too long ago, though it feels longer – when Marti was straight.

Some people (Filippo) would scoff at that.

Of course, Marti wasn't straight. But she thought she was straight. Straight and in love with her best friend.

Which, okay, Marti can see the reasoning behind it now: if you must go for a guy, go for the best of them. It makes a lot of sense, actually.

In the end, as it turned out, it wasn't necessary to go for a guy at all – which made a lot of things easier and so many way too hard.

Like being asked about girls by her friends all the time. Because she's a girl, she's into girls: she must know.

The truth is Marti knows very little about girls, and being a girl, and being with girls.

She just knows they're pretty and that she's not great at dealing with the butterflies in her stomach when they smile at her, or talk to her. Or just exist.

And yet she chases the feeling anyway.

Not all girls, of course. She can talk to Eva and Sana just fine. But Eva and Sana don't make her furious with how awkward she feels in breathing the same air as them.

It's all a bit of mess, really.

But it's that mess that brings Marti to the school bathroom, frowning at the mirror, trying to convince her curly fringe to cooperate. Down or up it doesn't matter, as long as it does _something._

It doesn't seem to be working.

Marti sighs and glances at the backpack she left on the radiator.

Classes ended at one but she went to the radio room to kill some time as she waited for the 2pm bell so she could try and intercept the girl, say sorry, and give her back the sketchbook.

She hasn't looked inside.

She could say it's because she is respectful of other people's privacy, but really, she just didn't want to look at it where other people could see.

Now it's five minutes to two, her fringe is a hopeless mess, the bathroom is completely empty.

And the sketchbook is just... over there. In Marti's backpack.

 _One page_ , Marti tells herself.

She'll open it at random and just look at that one page. Just so she can find out what hot artistic girls draw in their spare time.

Her brain seems unable to come up with any reasonable options: cute animals? Half-decomposing zombie creatures? Horrifyingly naked boyfriends?

They all seem as unlikely as each other, which only makes her more curious.

There's nothing too bad about it after all, Marti thinks. Anybody in her position would take a peek.

And sure, if this was her sketchbook- Okay, she can't draw. If this was her diary then, and someone were to pick it up and look inside, she would bite their head off, no questions asked.

Which is precisely why she doesn't take it to school and keeps it hidden under her mattress, though. Carelessness has its consequences.

Marti glances quickly at her backpack, sitting snugly on the radiator, then back at the bathroom door. No one in sight.

_Perfect._

She has barely taken a step towards it when the bell rings. Marti curses under her breath: she shouldn't have wasted all that time. But maybe if she hurries-

The bathroom door bursts open that very second.

"-so I told him and he went 'what?' and was pretending to be all confused but I knew it was him with the fake instagram account, I'm not an idiot."

"Wait, you aren't?" Sana brings both hands to her mouth as if in shock. Silvia pulls a face and Fede just laughs.

It's Sana who notices her first.

"Hey, Marti."

"Hey."

"Marti!" Fede perks up as soon as she spots her. "We heard gym was a bloodbath today."

Damn. News travel fast.

"It was an accident."

"Is it true that Fares girl lost one of her front teeth?" Silvia asks, in a brave attempt to sound concerned instead of morbidly curious.

"What? No!" Marti grabs her backpack and holds on to one of the straps as if to a lifeline. She didn't, right? Marti would have noticed... she thinks. "She just-"

"Broke her nose, Laura said," Fede says for her. "Is it true?

"Well, I don't know that she _broke_ it-"

"Weren't you girls about to pee your pants like, three seconds ago?" Sana cuts in, all impatient and business-like. "Get a move on, Eva and Ele are waiting at the Baretto. Marti, you wanna come?"

Sana smiles at her. Marti smiles back, grateful.

"Sorry, I have to... meet with someone right now. And later I'm supposed to see the guys." Her smile gets apologetic. "Thanks, though."

"Next time, then."

"Sure!"

Marti leaves, squeezing Sana's shoulder in passing.

VB is at the end of the corridor and Marti arrives just in time: the students are filing out in small groups, chatting and laughing among themselves.

Marti waits, leaning against the doorframe, her heart beating crazy fast.

What should she say? Will the girl be mad? Will giving her back the sketchbook make things better or-

_Wait..._

Marti gets on her tiptoes and peeks inside the classroom: where is she? Has she... left already? Has Marti missed her somehow?

Oh, God. What if Marti really broke her nose, like Fede said? Her... teeth?

Marti stops a guy on his way out. She tries to keep her voice steady, but it comes out pleading and way too high-pitched anyway.

"Sorry. Fares?"

"Nicole? She went home early today."

... _oh._

*

"Wait, wait, Marti. Explain it from the beginning, but calm down, okay?" 

"I am calm!"

"You're not calm. There's no need to cry."

"I'M NOT CRYING!!!"

Well, she wasn't before anyway.

She sniffles and Gio stands up from the bench and opens his arms, as if going in for a hug. Marti pushes him away, a bit too forcefully, and sits down next to Luca.

She regrets it a second afterwards.

"Sorry," she mumbles, but Gio waves that away like it doesn't matter.

Elia, on his feet with a ball under his sole, is staring at her with a vaguely amused smirk. She shows him the finger again.

"I'm not crying," Marti insists, wiping her eyes with the collar of her shirt.

"Right..." Luca looks from Gio to Marti, but he doesn't seem to get much out of either Marti's pout or Gio's concerned frown. "Who lost a tooth, though?"

"Fares from VB," Marti repeats, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Who?"

"The hot new girl who's always drawing, Luchì," Elia supplies helpfully.

"Aaaahhhh!" Luca's eyes get wide in understanding. "Oh, well. She's probably still hot."

"She didn't lose any teeth," Gio says, rolling his eyes. "She was bleeding from her nose."

"Whatever, maybe she broke her nose, I don't know!" Marti insists, stubborn. "But she was hurt bad, I'm telling you! This guy from her class told me she had to leave school early."

"Okay, well, you should write to her then!"

Elia scoffs.

"Yes, what a great idea!" He pretends to type on an imaginary phone. "'Dear Nicole, how's life? Pretty shitty, I bet, what with you missing a tooth and all. I'm the asshole who threw that ball at you, by the way. This is my number if you evet wanna chat xoxo'."

"Elì." Gio glares at him.

"What?"

"He kind of has a point, though." Marti shakes her head. "What would I even say?"

"I don't know, sorry seems like a good start?"

Marti worries her lower lip. She looks up at Gio, unconvinced, but he just shrugs in his usual 'I only told you what I think' way.

She sighs.

He's right, of course. He's annoying when he's right.

"I knew you guys would be useless," Marti mumbles under her breath.

*

_~~hey nicole. you don't know me but~~ _

_~~hey! this is martina from IVB~~ _

_~~hi, nicole. i'm so sorry for throwing that basketball at you this morning~~ _

Silvia has her number. Of course she does, she has everyone's number.

The strange thing is that Marti can't find her on Whatsapp, so she's writing an sms like it's the Middle Ages or some shit.

Or, well, she's _trying_ to write an sms.

Gio made is sound so easy earlier with his "just say sorry", as if it's an everyday occurence having to say sorry for breaking someone's front tooth. Or nose (that part still isn't very clear).

Marti doesn't really know the girl, besides having noticed her around school, with her stupid maybe-boyfriend, her bright, easy smile, and her sketchbook Marti now feels too guilty to even consider opening.

She tries to imagine how she would react if the roles were reversed: if _she_ ended up in ER with a bloody nose just because of some asshole's shitty aim. Not to mention the half-assed apology via text message.

... Marti would eat the culprit alive.

Maybe she should go down a different route for this, test the waters first, Gio's advice be damned. What does he know anyway?

Marti types the text quickly and hits send before giving herself time to overthink it:

_hey, i think i found your sketchbook in the school yard_

Simple. Straightforward. Sly.

Depending on how Nicole replies ( _if_ she replies... Marti imagines one doesn't have a lot of time to be on their phone in ER) she can figure out how to-

Marti's phone buzzes in her hands unexpectedly, startling her. She drops it on the bed like it's burning.

Could it be...? So soon?

Marti takes a deep calming breath before checking her phone: she has one text message.

Her fingers are trembling as she opens it.

_I OWE YOU MY LIFE <3_

It takes her a minute. She just stares at first, almost like she's trying to decipher an unknown language. Then something warm spreads from the middle of her chest up to her cheeks, and Marti can't help that she smiles.

It's relief, mainly, as silly as that is. But also something dangerously akin to hope.

And yeah, she knows she hasn't told the whole truth yet, but...

Marti looks up and her eyes meets her reflection in the mirror next to the bed.

She combs her fingers through her fringe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	2. Variable w

_hey, i think i found your sketchbook in the school yard_

_I OWE YOU MY LIFE <3_

_... i mean, i only picked it up from the ground_

_lol, i don't think you understand_

_i cried on the phone to the school for like half an hour today, but they told me they found nothing and someone had probably stolen it_

_sorry about that. i tried to return it after class but you weren't there_

_aww, that's sweet! i had to leave before recess_

_well, after recess in the end because basketball to the head and all_

_wait. so you didn't leave to go the the ER? people at school were saying that_

_what? lol, what are people at this school even on?_

_no, i had permission to leave early because i had a thing_

_a thing?_

_a thing!_

_i see..._

_i can give you back the sketchbook tomorrow, if you want?_

_i haven't looked inside, i promise_

_mmmm.................._

_i haven't! i swear!_

_ok :P we can meet in the yard during recess_

_ok!_

_so... you're not going to tell me your name? :)_

*

Marti stares at the phone screen, biting her lower lip. It's been ten minutes since she got the text and she still hasn't replied.

It's not on purpose, it's just that she doesn't know what to say, or how. There are too many variables to consider and maths is not Marti's forte.

She still has a decent average of 7, though, because she always tries. And she _has_ learnt a thing or two over the years:

_Variable x - Was Nicole seriously injured?_

This one Marti thinks she's solved. Probably not? Nicole didn't have to go to the ER and she seems in good spirits. Marti is relieved, but that brings her to...

_Variable y - Is Nicole mad about what happened?_

This one's definitely harder. "Basketball to the head and all", she wrote. It doesn't sound too bad, Marti supposes, but then again Marti had just told her she had found her beloved sketchbook. And Nicole doesn't know she's texting the person who threw the ball... Marti thinks. In fact...

_Variable z - Did Nicole see where the ball was coming from?_

Marti has no idea. But even if Nicole didn't see anything, someone could have told her. Fede heard it from Laura, who must have heard it from one of the boys in IVB. They might have told Nicole as well.

Not that Marti's name would mean anything to Nicole, but Marti is hesistant in introducing herself as Martina when there's a chance Nicole knows it was a Martina to hit her with that ball. If she knows.

Boy, all these questions are driving Marti crazy.

Does Nicole even know it was a girl who threw that ball earlier today? Does she know she's talking to one now? And while Marti's at it...

_Variable w - Is there a chance Nicole might be into girls at all?_

Marti sighs. "Gay people tend to find each other," Filippo always says, and Marti believes him, she does, but that never seems to happen to her.

To be fair, she doesn't try that much either. The one time she did all she got was a sloppy kiss with a drunk stranger in a dark corner of someone's house.

She saw that same girl happily make out with her boyfriend as she sat in his lap half an hour later. 

Marti shrugs. Maybe she's just the wrong kind of gay.

And Nicole is always with that guy anyway... And the whole school is kind of in love with her, so it really doesn't matter.

Marti is suprised when her phone buzzes again: she almost forgot it was there. She unlocks it with one hand as she lies on her stomach on the bed.

It's from Nicole.

_it's fine, keep your secrets :P see you tomorrow!_

Marti can't help that she smiles, rolling onto her back, her phone in hand.

She reads the words again, feeling her cheeks get pleasantly warm.

 _She doesn't know it's you_ , a reasonable voice in her head tries to argue. _Don't be silly. This means nothing._

Marti does her best to ignore it.

*

"Marti, stop."

"Mh?"

"You're making _me_ nervous."

"Oh, sorry."

Marti wills her leg to stop bouncing. But she's too restless to stand still just waiting for the recess bell to ring so she starts biting her nails instead.

Eva scowls. She throws a glance at Campanini and, as soon as he turns around to write the exercise on the board, she bats Marti's hand away.

"What now?"

"You promised! How can I put nail polish on you if you don't have nails?"

"Sorry," Marti mumbles, crossing her arms so she won't be tempted to bite her nails again. "I'm nervous."

"Why?"

Marti shrugs.

"History test," she says without looking Eva in the eye.

Eva scoffs.

"I hate you both." She means Gio of course. "'I'm nervous', 'I don't know shit this time, I swear' and then you get 8s and 9s like it's-"

The bell rings and Marti jumps to her feet like the chair is suddenly burning. She remembers to grab her backpack as an afterthought.

She turns around and catches Elia's curious eye.

"Espresso, two sugars?" she asks with a tentative smile. "I'll be back in a second."

"I'm not your waiter."

She rolls her eyes and looks to Gio, hands clasped as if in prayer.

"Espresso, two sugars? _Please?_ "

He nods.

"Where are you going?"

"To... talk to Scoppini about the essay."

"With your backpack?"

"See you later!"

Marti is out of the class in a flash, but she's still not quick enough to miss Eva's concerned aside to Gio: "Is she alright?"

*

She's not, really.

But she has a plan. Time is of the essence, and there are so many things that could go wrong Marti can't really think about them at all or she'll be back hyperventilating at her desk while Eva stares at her like she's an alien.

But really, it all boils down to not getting caught.

Marti bolts along the corridor and down a flight of stairs before half the school has even had time to process the bell has actually rung.

She gets to the windowsill just in time to snatch it from a group of third years. She pretends not to hear them grumbling and sits on it cross-legged to take up more space (in case they have the brilliant idea to join her).

She peeks down into the yard, which is starting to fill up with people.

Marti squints, trying to find Nicole, but it looks like she isn't there yet. She tends to stand out when she is.

Not in an obvious way, but Marti kind of likes that. How it might take a moment to notice her, all hidden under her baggy hoodies and long black locks, but once you do you're pulled in, she's all you can see. Like she's magnetic, almost.

Well, she's all Marti can see at least. But she's heard the boys talk, it's not like Marti is _special._

And yeah, that's her.

Marti can't help that her heart starts beating faster as she watches Nicole stop at the bottom of the stairs, looking around curiously.

She pulls on the sleeves of her white hoodie so they'll cover most of her hands, and okay. There is maybe a moment when Marti considers throwing the plan out of the window and run down to her.

She resists the urge, though.

 _Think of the variables_ , she tells herself. _You can't risk it. Not like this._

Marti checks the time on her phone, then glances at Nicole fidgeting with her hands in the school yard.

She still has ten minutes, she can make it.

She jumps down the windowsill and rushes back up the flight of stairs, passes her classroom without looking inside, zig-zags among the people queing at the vending machine.

She's in front of VB in no time, panting hard.

The classroom is as mercifully empty as she hoped. She had an excuse ready in case someone was inside – a fairly elaborate one, too. Something about hearing that Boccia wanted to talk to the whole class about "the state of the locker rooms".

Everyone has done something to the locker rooms at some point, after all.

Thankfully there's no need for that. Marti steps inside the empty classroom and suddenly realises she hasn't thought about this part at all.

The plan was simple: hide the sketchbook under Nicole's desk and run away before the bell rings or anyone comes back in.

Too bad she has no idea which one is Nicole's desk at all.

 _Okay, okay, no need to panic_. It's the reasonable voice inside her brain speaking, while everything else in there appears to have caught fire. It sounds suspiciously like Gio's. _You do know some things about her, don't you?_

Very few, but she does.

Nicole has a messenger bag she carries around with her all the time. Black.

She had it yesterday when Marti threw that ball at her in PE (with hindsight, it should have been obvious that she was leaving early, but Marti's brain was otherwise occupied).

She looks around the classroom, trying to see if she can spot it anywhere. She forgoes the first row of desks: Marti doesn't really know Nicole, but she doesn't strike her as a first row kind of girl.

There are several black bags scattered around, both on the floor and on top of desks. Some have trinkets hanging from them: Marti tries to think, but she can't honestly remember anything apart from "black messenger bag".

She bites her nails nervously.

She should probably give up, she's running out of time. It sucks, but it's not the end of the world. She can always pretend to have been sick today and tell Nicole-

_... wait, is that...?_

Marti takes two step backwards and cranes her neck to squint at the desk in the second-to-last row, the closest one to the window.

There are flowers drawn onto the desk, coloured in with red and orange crayons, though the colours don't stick that well on the plastic surface.

Marti is not a flower expert but they look like poppies. They're nice, Marti thinks. Nice and somewhat unexpected, though she can't say why exactly.

_Is this what's in her sketchbook then? Flowers...?_

Marti checks under the desk and, sure enough, there's a black messenger bag thrown carelessly under the radiator.

It should be enough. It's probably enough.

Marti glances nervously at the door and opens the Latin textbook on the desk, just to be sure.

 _Nicole Fares, VB_ , it says on top of the first page in an elaborate loopy handwriting, in black ink.

Marti allows herself a second to cringe.

 _Why would she write in pen on books?!_ The thought tapers off into a half-mumbled curse as the bell rings, signalling the end of recess.

Marti opens her own backpack frantically and takes out the sketchbook, sliding it in Nicole's underdesk and stepping away immediately.

She's already closed her backpack and reached the front of the class when a guy steps in, coffee in hand.

Dark hair, chequered shirt.

_Fuck._

He smiles at Marti, politely confused.

"Hey," he offers, unsure.

"Hey." She tries to smile back, though it probably looks more like a grimace. "Have you seen Scoppini? I need to talk to her about my essay."

"Yeah, we had her in first period."

"Oh." Marti pretends to frown. "Wait, is this not VA?"

The guy shakes his head.

"VB." He kindly doesn't point out it says so right outside the door.

"Oh, shit." Marti lifts a hand to her mouth, as if embarrassed. "Wrong classroom. Sorry!"

She doesn't wait for his reply and dashes out of the door. She doesn't pause to draw breath until she's past the vending machines and in clear view of her own classroom.

She probably looks awful as she steps in, backpack on one shoulder, breathing heavy, her hair more of a mess than usual after the run.

"Did you and Scoppini fight it out?" Elia asks with a grin, and Marti pulls a face.

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

She walks slowly to her desk and collapses onto the chair, sighing deeply, ignoring both Eva's frown and Gio's worried glance.

She notices only then that there are two plastic cups of coffee on her desk. She turns around to face Elia, an eyebrow raised.

"That's on the house," Elia says, without looking up from his phone. "But if you were interested in helping out a poor soul who knows shit about Napoleon..."

*

Her phone buzzes with a new text right in the middle of the history test, but she doesn't get to open it until she's on the bus home, an hour and a half later.

She doesn't trust herself to read it where everyone else can see her face. Well, people on the bus can see her face, but strangers don't count.

_wow. that required a lot of planning, i'm impressed!_

_though i did think you had stood me up for a while there_

Marti smiles. Nicole doesn't sound mad, that's a relief. Still, she knows she kind of deliberately lied this time, not just omitted.

_sorry :/_

Nicole replies almost immediately:

_that's fine. thank you for the sketchbook_

_but what's with all the secrecy? i promise i don't bite ;)_

Marti can't really say where the sudden courage comes from.

Maybe it's the implications of the winky face making her cheeks flush, though she's probably just imagining them. Maybe it's that Nicole has been nothing but lovely in her texts.

Maybe it's just that anonymity is addictive and exhilarating in a way Marti was wholly unprepared for.

She takes a deep breath and types back:

_i don't know_

_... i think i like you a bit_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for giving this story a chance and for the kind feedback. It helped a lot.
> 
> Hope you liked the new chapter <3


	3. Theory is different

_i don't know_

_... i think i like you a bit_

_oh_

_well, that's encouraging_

_sorry lol. i was just surprised!_

_it's fine. i mean, i know you have a boyfriend..._

_do i? that's news to me_

_chequered shirt? always with you at recess?_

_EMA??? GOD FORBID_

_i mean, i love him, he's great, but GOD NO_

_oh. so you don't have a boyfriend?_

_i don't, i'm single :P_

_are you going to tell me your name now? just your name_

_i won't ask which class you're in or anything else_

_ok_

_it's giovanni_

_:)_

*

"WHAT?!"

"Okay, but listen, _listen_. There's tons of people named Giovanni. Like, tons. I looked it up! More than a million people in Italy are named Giovanni."

"I don't care about Italy. I care about our school! And I count four, including me."

"Okay, but she's new. She doesn't really know that many people!"

" _Marti._ "

"I know. I panicked, Gio, I'm sorry."

He sighs, kicking at the concrete steps with his heels. He's staring down into the river, seemingly deep in thought; Marti steals a glance, looking for clues on how bad she fucked up. The traffic from the street above sounds weirdly muffled, like they're in their own bubble, shoulder to shoulder in the crisp spring dusk.

Marti still isn't sure how the bubble is going to burst.

"So... after all of this, she still doesn't know you threw the ball," Gio offers after a long pause, turning to face Marti. And yeah, that definitely looks like an exasperated half-smile – one he's trying, and mostly failing, not to show.

Marti sighs in relief.

"Only that I found the sketchbook," she breathes out.

"And she thinks you're some guy named Giovanni who's got a crush on her?"

Marti nods wordlessly, biting her lip.

"Sorry?"

Gio rolls his eyes.

"Why do always have to make everything so complicated?"

He reaches out and hooks his arm around Marti's neck, dragging her closer. She groans and tries to wriggle free, pushing at his chest, but only perfunctorily: she doesn't really mind the disguised hug.  
"So 'she's too hot for us guys' but not too hot for you, uh?" Gio asks with a grin, ruffling her hair with his hand as he lets her go.

His grin widens as Marti slaps at his arm and starts patting down at her fringe to try and get it to cooperate. She shrugs, faking indifference, though she knows she's blushing.

"She's too hot for me too," she mumbles reluctantly. "And she's straight."

"How do you know?"

"She talked about boyfriends," Marti sighs.

" _You_ talked about boyfriends," Gio corrects her, an eyebrow raised. "And anyway, as far as she knows, you're some random dude who got her phone number God-knows-where, won't say his name, but knows where her desk is."

Marti opens her mouth to argue, but she's too shocked for anything to come out. She fishmouths a couple of times, eyes open wide, before finding her voice again.

"Did I freak her out?" she croaks, dumbfounded. "Was I creepy?"

Gio shrugs.

"I don't know. Did she sound freaked out?"

Marti considers it. She takes out her phone and scrolls back through the texts she and Nicole have exchanged. She can't help but smile.

"... no."

"Then you probably didn't." Gio smiles, but it soon turns into a smirk. "So, what's the plan now? Are you going to send her a picture of me or...?"

Marti punches him on the shoulder.

"Dick," is all she says, and Gio bursts out laughing.

They make eye contact briefly before looking away, pretending the river is interesting enough to require their undivided attention. None of them are especially good at big speeches: Gio is smiling, though, and Marti is biting her lips so she won't look like an idiot from too much smiling.

He knew of course, they all do. But she's never really... well.

Theory is different, basically. And Marti is so grateful she doesn't know what to do with it.

"You could probably tell her about the ball, you know?" Gio offers tentatively after a long pause. "She seems chill."

Marti nods, smiling to herself.

"... I know."

*

"You can do Hypatia," Sana said last week, when they were drafting the radio schedule for March and dividing the scripts between them. "She's cool."

And she _is_ cool, Marti supposes: astronomer, philosopher, mathematician in Roman Egypt. Cool.

Also a lot more work than anticipated: Marti has had to brush up on a lot of history (she considered Wikipedia for a brief moment, but Sana would have killed her for that, so she went to the school library and borrowed some books. Sana better appreciate her dedication).

So yeah, Hypatia is cool. She's also the reason Marti is holed up in the radio room studying after class instead of at the five-a-side football tournament with the guys.

(They're having Galvani sub for her. _Galvani._ She wants to scream.)

Marti opens her laptop to scribble down some half-coherent notes about the Eastern Roman Empire, pressing on the keys probably a bit harder than necessary, but she feels it's justified.

Fucking Galvani.

She only looks up from the screen when she hears someone pointedly clear their throat right in front of her.

"Hey. Is this where you sign up for the radio?"

It happens in slow-motion, or that's what it feels like to Marti anyway.

It's the voice, at first. She's never really heard her speak before: a charming low pitch that feels so strange for her tiny body.

She's short.

... well, she's not really. If Marti were to stand up now – which she doesn't think she could do, as her knees would surely give out under her – she wouldn't be more than a few centimeters taller. She's just... small in a different way. Slender, sharp.

She's wearing her hoodie around her shoulders like a cape, the top half of her hair tied up in a bun, the rest of it framing her face in carefully styled loose curls.

She's smiling too – bright, brighter than most people do when talking to strangers, or when talking in general – and Marti is so distracted she almost doesn't notice the purple bruise on her nose spreading all the way to her left cheekbone.

Almost.

Marti gulps, trying to remember what Nicole even asked, her hand instinctively going up to fix her fringe.

"Radio... yes. This is Radio Osvaldo." Marti gestures around the room, though the class is completely empty at the moment. "I'm not sure we're accepting new members, though."

She doesn't know why she says it and she wishes she could kick herself for it. It's true: March is probably too late to join the radio, isn’t it? That doesn't mean she should say it, though.

"Oh?" Nicole frowns. "Sana told me it was fine earlier. That you guys have... not very many people doing this anyway."

"You talked to Sana?"

"Yeah. She was leaving but told me I could come up and someone would explain how it works?" She throws Marti a hopeful smile, which she tentatively returns.

"Uh, okay, sure..." Marti closes her laptop and pushes her books aside, as Nicole sits on the chair opposite hers. "So, what do you want to-"

"I'm Nicole, by the way." She offers Marti her hand to shake, her smile getting impossibly bigger. "Nico is fine."

They shake hands, Marti’s brain gears turning like crazy as she tries to think of what to say. She really doesn't want to say her name, just in case Nico has heard people murmur in the corridors, but it's not like she can refuse when Nico is right there, can she?

And, yeah, Gio is right, she's chill, and Marti _could_ tell her about the incident. Probably. Theoretically.

Maybe.

Marti would like to be able to pick the right moment for it, though (if such a thing even exists).

"... Martina," she settles for in the end, hoping for the best. "Only my grandma calls me that."

"Right," Nico laughs. "So, _Marti_." She rests her cheek on her palm, elbow on the desk. Marti tries to pretend the nickname is perfectly fine. The good thing is that Nico didn't react to her name in any particular way, which probably means she hasn't heard any rumours. "What do you guys do around here?"

"Uhm, well... different things." Marti rummages in her backpack for her school diary and shows the print-out of the radio schedule to Nico, who leans in curiously. "These are the programmes we have at the moment, but you can choose your own. They technically have to be approved by the principal first, but he's approved everything so far, including the sex ed course."

Nico's eyebrows go up in mild surprise.

"Are you doing that?" She smiles. "The sex ed course?"

Marti hopes she doesn't blush: it would be such a stupid thing to blush at too, she's not _twelve._

"Oh, no, that's Fede's programme," she says, probably too quickly. "She was in the scouts, so you know..."

Nico giggles. Marti tries not to find it adorable.

"Not really, but I've heard some things." She's still smiling. How is she still smiling? It's like her eyes are smiling. There is something terrifying but also exhilarating in having her full attention. Nico points at Marti's laptop. "What do you do, then?"

Marti follows her line of sight, taking in her laptop and the library books.

"Me and Sana do a programme called _Women Who Changed History_."

"That's cool!" Nico says. She sounds genuinely excited, which Marti finds very hard not to look too pleased about.

"... I guess, yeah."

"And which of these women were you so angry at earlier?"

"What?"

Nico grins, knowing.

"I saw you taking it out on your poor laptop."

"Oh, that." Marti is definitely blushing now. She can't believe she can't seem to do a single thing right whenever Nico is around. "No, that was- I mean, I was studying Hypatia, but... I had to skip football so I could finish this today and I was kind of... disappointed."

"You play football?"

_Better than I play basketball_ , Marti doesn't say, trying to look anywhere but at the bruise on Nico's perfectly straight nose.

At least she didn't break it: that's something, she supposes.

"... I play sometimes," Marti says in the end. She doesn't give Nico time to ask any more sports-related question, sensing that the conversation might take a dangerous turn. "Any ideas what your programme will be about?" she asks instead.

"Some," Nico answers mysteriously, waggling her eyebrows.

Marti snorts a laugh.

"I'm not going to steal your secrets, if that's what you're worried about."

"But I might steal yours!" Nico reaches out jokingly towards Marti's laptop. "The episodes all go on the school website, right? I'm going to look you up."

"Poor you," Marti deadpans, though the idea is making her head spin. She hopes she didn't say anything dumb. At the moment, she's finding hard to remember what all of those episodes were about at all.

Nico scrunches up her nose with a smile. She stands up.

"I'm going to leave you to your Hypatia now. Wouldn't want you to have missed out on football for nothing."

"No!" Marti says. It's definitely what she meant but she could have been subtler about it. "I mean, you don't have to. If you have more questions..."

"I think I've got it," Nico says, as she ties her hoodie tighter around her shoulder. She smirks. "And I have _research_ to do anyway, remember?"

"Right." Marti shakes her head with a fond smile. "See you around, then."

"Bye, Marti."

Nico turns her back on her, her dark curls bouncing softly with the motion. Marti's eyes follow her as she walks to the door. She can't help but notice the black messenger bag Nico is wearing on her shoulder, the top half of her black sketchbook peeking out from the open zipper.

A second longer, then Nico disappears into the corridor.

When Marti opens her laptop again to go back to her notes, she's faced with her smiling reflection on the screen.

*

_how is your nose doing?_

_oh, hi, gio_

_alright, thank you. it doesn’t even hurt if i don’t touch it_

_how was your day?_

_eventful :) yours?_

_… intriguing ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked Nicole. Thank you for reading <3


	4. Not about you

_what colour are your eyes?_

_what?_

_it's a simple question :)_

_yeah, i'm not answering questions about what i look like. sorry_

_how boring_

_what's your favourite subject in school then?_

_if it's not TMI, of course_

_ha. ha. ha._

_history. yours?_

_art history. but i wish we could *make* art as well, you know?_

_why didn't you go to a liceo artistico then?_

_my parents insisted_

_... ah. sorry, that must suck_

_… a bit_

_but i’m making it work :)_

*

The radio schedule for Friday, pinned on the notice board, clearly says:

_14.15 - Fares_  
_15.15 - Brighi, Mirabella_  
_16.15 - Allagui, Rametta_

Still, it's five minutes to three when Marti peeks into the control room: she can't help it, she's too curious. Eva is supervising sound, waiting for her own turn to record, and Silvia has not arrived yet.

Eva waves her over and Marti joins her behind the mixer. At the other side of the glass, Nico is discussing something Marti can't hear.

She's got some notes in front of her, but she's not reading, just going with the flow, as she doodles distractedly along the margins. She’s wearing her hair up in buns today.

_She’s cute_ , Marti thinks. But then again she always is.

The moment she looks up, and their eyes meet, Nico's eyes light up in recognition: she smiles and waves, which has Eva raise her eyebrows because yeah, last she knew, Marti sent this girl to the ER with her bad aim.

"Does she know?" Eva mouths wordlessly, as she hands Marti a pair of headphones like the ones she's wearing.

Marti shakes her head, and Eva's eyebrows go impossibly higher.

"Shit."

_And you don't know the half of it_ , Marti doesn't say. She shrugs instead, pretending that's not a perfect description of her life, and puts the headphones on.

... _oh._

She forgot how nice Nico's voice sounds, all smiley and velvety deep. She finds herself smiling back, trying to catch up with what Nico is saying.

"-and, yes, there's talent. Like, that's a thing. But also, you can't just never try and complain you can't do it. Because, if you tried, you could get better at it, learn new techniques, find your style. It's not like Picasso woke up one day, never painted a single thing his life, and went: ‘I think I'm going to invent Cubism today’.” She glances at Eva and Marti hoping for a smile they promptly grant her. “It's like cooking in that – not that I know anything about cooking. I mean, I like it, but Maris- I mean, I was told I don’t respect the original recipe enough. Which… okay.” She rolls her eyes and Marti’s smile widens. “But they’re similar things anyway.”

Nico pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and continues.

“Because, you know… as I was preparing this first episode, I keep thinking, like. What's the point of art?” She giggles to herself, but doesn’t glance at her notes, just keeps doodling. “Big topic, right? But sometimes I think that we shouldn’t, you know… look too far. Look at cooking, for example. We cook to eat, to survive. But also to experiment, and try new things, and express ourselves by making something that we are going to share with others. And, like. Art is just the same.” Her voice goes quieter, Marti notices. She doesn’t sound sad necessarily, but contemplative and sincere. “Sometimes you feel things you don’t want to feel, because they hurt, or they remind you of bad stuff, I don’t know, but you feel them – and you make art about it. You get it _out_ and you _survive_ and you give it all _meaning_ , by making art about it.” Nico interrupts herself, as if realising she’s not saying what she’s supposed to, or maybe thinking she’s going too far. “Or arepas, I suppose,” she amends quickly. “Which is the same thing, really."

Nico shakes her head to clear it.

"Okay, sorry, I went a bit off-track there, and we don't have a ton of time left. Sorry.” She smiles at Eva apologetically. “We were talking about like... starting out with art and stuff? As I was saying, I think drawing is a good starting point, in general. As for the materials, you don't really need much..."

*

Marti waits for Nico in the corridor after her radio show is over.

She doesn’t know what she wants to say, exactly. It’s just the thought of leaving now is so ridiculous she can’t even contemplate it. And the smile Nico gives her when she notices she’s still there, sitting on the floor just below the radio notice board convinces her she’s done something right.

She scrambles back up, dusting off her jeans.

“… wow,” Marti offers genuinely, as Nico comes to stand right in front of her. “I don’t think the Radio Osvaldo audience was ready for _that._ ”

It makes Nico laugh.

“What audience?”

“Well… okay, yeah. No one listens to it.” Marti smiles. “But still.”

Nico grins, reaching out and squeezing Marti’s shoulder in a gesture that is probably meant to be mocking, but Marti can’t help that she feels goosebumps when Nico’s nails graze her neck.

“Learnt from the best.” Then her eyes get softer, searching. “Did you really like it? I’m afraid I went off-topic a bit and then had to rush the ending.”

“Nono, I loved it, it was great,” Marti is quick to reassure her. “So you’re an artist, uh?” she adds, trying to remember if she was supposed to know that or not. Boy, this double identity thing is confusing.

Nico shrugs.

“I doodle sometimes… Here.” She looks down at the sheet of paper she was drawing on moments ago in the recording studio and hands it to Marti. On it, there’s a short outline of what Nico talked about (or was supposed to) with sunflowers drawn all over it.

_Flowers again_ , Marti can’t help but notice, remembering the poppies decorating Nico’s desk.

“They’re cool,” Marti says. She tries to return the outline to Nico, but she waves it off.

“You can keep it. It’s my gift to you.” Nico smiles. “For… being my radio mentor.”

“Oh.” _Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush_ , Marti thinks desperately, looking down at the drawing instead of up at Nico. “Thank you.”

Marti is saved by her phone, which buzzes briefly in the side pocket of her backpack. She takes it out, after folding the drawing and carefully putting it away. She frowns as she notices she's got a new text from her mum, and Nico notices immediately.

“Is something wrong?”

The text is short, and Marti can almost picture her mum typing it out while lying on the bed, as soon as she came back from work.

_darling, i’m sorry, i’m not feeling like going out for dinner tonight_

_let’s make it another time okay?_

Marti sighs and puts the phone away. Deep down she expected it, but it doesn’t hurt any less. She had just hoped dining out at her mum’s favourite restaurant would help her out… somewhat. But nothing Marti does ever seems to help.

Nico is still looking at her with a concerned expression on her face, so Marti smiles reassuringly at her. It probably doesn’t look very convincing because Nico’s frown deepens.

“It’s just my mum.” Marti explains with a shrug. “She cancelled our dinner out tonight.”

“I see…” Nico says slowly, even though it’s clear as day she doesn’t.

And yeah, it’s Friday night, Marti knows, and it’s not like the boys haven’t complained endlessly about Marti bailing on them. But the thing is…

“My mum, she’s… well, not doing great… after my dad left, so.” Marti bites her lip. She can feel her voice cracking, tears threatening to spill, and she hates it. “I don’t know… I thought this would help?”

She watches Nico’s eyes go wide in understanding. For a split second, Marti thinks she sees her bottom lip tremble, as she opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Then Nico hugs her, tight.

It startles her, but only for a moment. The hug feels right, grounding, so she lets herself be held by Nico’s strong but slender frame. She lets her tears fall too, doesn’t try to hide them. She doesn’t even freak out when Nico’s hand come up to stroke her hair gently.

“It’s not about you. I promise it’s not,” Nico murmurs in her ear. It sounds soft but also urgent, like it’s important that Marti understands. “It’s just… so hard sometimes. To deal with everything.” Nico pauses for a second before continuing, her voice almost breaking. “I… I’m sure your mum loves you and is trying her best.”

Marti nods into Nico’s shoulder.

“I know.” It comes out only a bit weepy.

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

Nico holds her a moment longer before letting go. Marti sees her eyes are wet too when they break apart, but Nico puts on a brave, if slightly embarrassed, smile. Marti notices only then that Nico’s green t-shirt is wet on her left shoulder.

“I… your shirt. I cried all over it. Sorry.” Marti cringes. “Also for… making a scene and stuff. I promise I don’t usually go around crying on people.”

“I feel special then.” Nico’s smile feels more genuine now. “Do you have other plans for tonight?”

Marti’s heart starts beating faster, even though she knows Nico is not inviting her anywhere, she’s just being polite. Also, she totally can’t bail on the guys _now_.

“I’m seeing my friends, I think.”

“Oh.”

For a moment, Nico almost looks disappointed. Or she doesn’t, Marti is probably imagining things. It’s a fleeting impression, gone in an instant, but it’s enough to make her blurt out: “Do you want to come too? We’re just hanging out.”

Nico lights up at that, her eyes crinkling with how bright she’s smiling.

“Really? Won’t your friends mind?”

“Oh, no, they’ll be thrilled.” _Oh God, oh God, oh God._ She absolutely needs to have words with them before tonight. “Also, they’re all guys. I don’t know if that bothers you or...”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. Guys are fine.” Nico turns, hearing footsteps coming from the stairs at the end of the corridor. “And speaking of guys…” She pulls a face in the direction of the boy in the chequered shirt who’s just appeared. Marti recognises him as Ema, Nico’s friend – not boyfriend! – from VB. She can only hope he won’t recognise her as ‘the girl who can’t tell classes apart’. “Look who’s finally decided to show up.”

Ema, panting slightly after walking up all those steps, pulls a face right back at Nico.

“Shut up, you said three thirty!”

“I said three fifteen.”

“When?!”

Nico rolls her eyes in Marti’s direction instead of replying.

“Gotta go, Marti. See you tonight. You’ll text me the details, yes?”

“… uh, sure,” Marti says. Oh, shit, she won’t be able to use her own phone, will she? Nico has that number. This is getting messier and messier by the second. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” Nico waits for a moment, like she’s expecting Marti to do something. Marti frowns in confusion and Nico lifts an eyebrow. “You’ll need my phone number then,” she elaborates. “To… text me?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course.”

As she pretends to type in a number she already has saved on her phone, Marti realises the full extent of the mess she’s in. Is this karma? She doesn’t believe in karma. Also, it feels disproportionate… Marti just wanted the pretty girl with the dark curls not to hate her for throwing that ball at her in PE. The rest just… happened? Somehow.

“Done,” Marti announces after a few seconds of pretending to type. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Bye, Marti.”

“Bye,” Ema echoes, throwing Marti a curious glance she doesn’t like one bit.

_… fucking karma._

*

_10-ish at san calisto_

_this is marti btw but i’m using my mum’s phone_

_ok thanks!_

_why?_

_mine is kinda… useless atm_

_rip :(_

_… yeah_

*

_have you got plans tonight, gio?_

_i’m just going to hang out with my friends. you?_

_same :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	5. Tried to quit

_ok just as a reminder_

_if you hit on nico i'm going to end you_

_if you mention the ball throwing incident i'm going to end you_

_gio is not to be called by his full name under any circumstances_

_elia: or...?_

_luca: she's going to end us, i think_

_elia: ... yeah, that was the joke, luchì_

_gio: idk marti. this sounds like a one-way ticket to messing up big time_

_not if you all do as i say_

_luca: can i ask a question?_

_elia: oh boy_

_luca: you're trying to get this girl to like you, right? but you keep lying to her_

_luca: wouldn't it be better to just be honest and see what happens?_

_gio: i hate to say it but i agree with luchino_

_elia: yeah, me too. just talk to her, man_

_i will! i will talk to her_

_just help me out tonight, okay? then i'll talk to her_

_luca: deal_

*

“It wasn't a penalty!”

“It kind of was, though.”

“Only if you were drunk.” Marti rolls her eyes at Luca, sitting opposite her at the small table at the bar. “And you were definitely drunk, Lu.”

“Okay, but Marti,” Gio says, shaking his head. “When you watch it back in slo-mo-”

“Not you too!”

“Slo-mo is useless, makes everything look like a foul,” Elia says decisively. He throws a curious glance at Nico, sandwiched between him and Marti. “Right, Nico?”

Nico freezes in the act of sipping on her drink through the straw. She straightens up slowly, frowning slightly.

“Football is the one with the oval ball, right?”

A somewhat tense silence follows. Nico glances from Elia to Marti, eyes open wide, before taking in Luca and Gio's expressions. She only resists for a couple of seconds before she bursts out laughing.

“Your faces,” she says, giggling. “Okay, Gio wins. Everyone else looked like they were about to disown me.”

“I wasn't!” Marti tries to argue weakly, as Gio and Nico exchange a high-five over the table. Luca lets out a giggle that sounds a bit hysterical and Elia slumps back against the chair like he's relieved he doesn't have to deal with this for real.

Nico pinches Marti's cheek, making a funny face. Marti is really glad she can't see the face _she_ is making.

“You totally were, Marti. Don't lie.”

“So...” Gio raises an eyebrow in Marti's direction, who feels her cheeks get hot. He addresses Nico. “You know it's not played with an oval ball. But are you into football or...?”

“Not really.” Nico shrugs, but she's smiling. “There are more interesting sports.”

Elia raises an eyebrow at that.

“As in?” he asks, almost daring her to come up with something worthy.

“As in... I played waterpolo for a few years.”

Elia and Gio exchange a mildly impressed look, while Luca frowns.

“I didn't know girls could play that.”

“It's forbidden by law, actually,” Marti deadpans. She turns to Nico, her tone mock-serious. "You're wanted by the police, right?”

Nico's voice drops to an urgent whisper.

“You weren't supposed to _tell_ them!”

The boys laugh, and Marti leans back against her plastic chair, smiling to herself. She doesn't know why she was worried, really: they talked about sports and no one thought of bringing up basketball. What's more, Nico seems to genuinely like the boys, who are only being as embarrassing as they usually are.

Of course, that’s no reason to drop one's guard.

“Any other secret talents you want to share with the class?” Marti asks Nico, going for casual. She's hoping to move the conversation from sports to art, which she knows Nico likes to talk about, but Nico seems to have other ideas.

“Well,” she grins. "I'm known for being an arm wrestling champion.”

It goes down as well as expected. The table erupts in... something between excitement and outrage, making all the neighbours turn to look. The boys barely even notice, busy as they are talking excitedly over each other.

“Ooooh, you shouldn't have said that, Nico.” Elia shakes his head, smiling knowingly. "You're going down now.”

She smiles back, an eyebrow raised.

“Am I?”

“Yeah!” Luca says excitedly. “We have the Arm Wrestling Wizard among us!”

“Self-proclaimed,” Marti adds in a perfectly audible whisper.

Gio glares and she sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles at Nico, a bit pleased.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said anything, but…”

“ _You’re_ the Wizard?” Nico’s voice goes up in polite disbelief. She’s obviously mocking, which has Gio shaking his head in amusement.

“You don’t need to take my word for it.” He plants his right elbow on the table and extends his hand towards her. “Best of three?”

Nico looks from him to Marti, who only gives her an exaggerated sigh. She cracks her knuckles and takes his hand, mirroring his pose. Luca smacks his hand on top of theirs.

“Nicole, Waterpolo Fugitive vs Giovanni, Contrabbandieri Wizard,” he announces eagerly. “Round one.”

Nico’s head snaps up at that. It takes Marti an embarrassingly long moment to realise why.

_Oh, no._

“Giovanni?” Nico repeats, obviously surprised. Luca looks like a deer caught in headlights, but thankfully Nico is not looking at him.

Gio throws Marti a quick glance, momentarily panicked, and she nods imperceptibly: it’s not like he can deny it at this point, can he?

“That’s me,” Gio says slowly in the end, in a calm tone that doesn’t fool Marti at all, but it’s convincing enough that it might fool Nico... maybe. “So.” He clears his throat. “Shall we?”

*

_are you home?_

_gio, chill_

_the bus was late, i’m still walking nico home_

_i should have come with you_

_only if you wanted to die a very painful death_

*

“I could totally have won the second round.” Nico stumbles on the rickety pavement and only keeps her balance by tugging at Marti’s neck. She keeps her arm around her shoulders as they continue walking along Via della Conciliazione, the San Pietro basilica blinding them with its lights. “Totally.”

She’s drunk.

Not drunk enough to forget where she lives – close by apparently, lucky her – but… drunk enough anyway. Which is weird, now that Marti thinks about it, because she didn’t even drink that much.

“Ni, are you… not used to drinking alcohol?” Marti asks, a bit concerned.

“Had to quit. Tried to quit.” Nico giggles. “Not going very well, is it?”

“Oh.” Marti pauses, uncertain of what to say. “I’m sorry I suggested San Calisto then, I didn’t-”

“Shhhhhh.” Nico lifts a finger to Marti’s lips. Marti has to close her eyes at that. “Shush. It’s fine, its fine.”

They walk a few meters in silence, their uneven steps echoing eery and loud on the cobblestone pavement. Marti doesn’t mind the practically empty streets: it almost feels like they’re the only ones still awake in the whole city.

“So,” Nico prompts, her tone cheery but Marti can hear the strain in her voice anyway. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?” Marti says, though she thinks she knows what Nico means.

“About the drinking,” she clarifies, kicking a coke can away from their path.

“No.”

“Why not? This way,” Nico adds, pulling Marti into a side street. “It’s left here, then at the end of that other street there. The pink building.”

“Because it’s none of my business,” Marti argues, leading the way despite Nico being the one who knows where they’re going. “And you’re drunk.”

“But what if I want you to tell you?”

“You don’t. You’re drunk, Ni.”

“What if I’m drunk because I want you tell you?”

A pause. Marti risks a glance at Nico: her eyes are glowing golden and painfully sincere under the street lights. Marti hesitates.

“Are you?”

Nico sighs.

“Let’s sit here.” She lets go of Marti only to collapse gracelessly onto the small step in front of a wooden doorway facing the street. Some loose strands fall into her face with the motion and she blows them back.

Marti lifts her hands to her hips, unconvinced.

“On the pavement?”

“On the step.”

Marti sits awkwardly next to her: there’s hardly enough space for both of them so their arms are pressed against each other. Nico’s skin feels hot despite the chilly air, and Marti shivers.

“So,” Nico says, and leaves it at that.

“So,” Marti echoes.

She’s nervous, and it’s not just Nico’s proximity. She can feel this is important to Nico and she’s terrified of fucking it all up. Slowly, her hand trembling slightly, she lifts her hand to Nico’s wrist. She squeezes gently, and Nico looks up with half a smile that Marti immediately returns, relieved.

Nico takes a deep breath.

“You know I changed schools, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I failed last year. It wasn’t, I mean…” Nico shakes her head. “I was seeing this girl, a friend of mine.” She looks up. “We started dating,” she clarifies, and Marti nods. She strokes the back of Nico’s hand softly, waiting. “Her family freaked out when they found out about us and I- Well, I... took it badly, couldn’t even go to school anymore. I was feeling so bad my parents insisted I see some people. Doctors.” Nico twists her hands nervously. “And well, it turned out the way I feel, these mood swings I have, this… this constant terror of losing people. Well, it’s a thing, an illness. It’s called BPD.”

Marti doesn’t stop stroking Nico’s hand even once she’s fallen silent. She doesn’t know what the right thing to say is, or even if there is one. So she asks what she cares about the most.

“How do you feel now?”

“I take medications for it,” Nico says with a deliberate shrug. “Go to therapy. Fail at not drinking, even though the doctor said it’s not a good idea.” She cringes but Marti just smiles. “There are up and downs.”

It feels natural enough for Marti to reach out and link their fingers together. When Nico leans her head against her shoulder, sighing deep, Marti brings her other hand up to stroke her hair. Nico closes her eyes.

“Did I freak you out?” Nico asks after a moment.

Marti shakes her head.

“No. I’m glad you told me.” She can’t help but think of her mum, of the shame she always feels at admitting she needs help. “That you trusted me.”

“It’s just…” Nico hesitates. “Lots of people think if you have BPD you’re crazy, you know.”

“They’re dumb.”

Nico nods into Marti’s shoulder.

“They are.”

They must look so weird to the blessedly few passer-by: crouched down in front of the doorway of a house that is obviously not theirs, whispering among themselves; Nico’s eyes closed, her body tired like she’s just run a marathon; Marti looking at the street ahead without really seeing it, only really able to focus on the sleepy figure next to her.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Marti whispers, after Nico doesn’t say anything more.

She hears a muffled giggle.

“You’re comfy.”

Marti smiles, her cheeks pink with pride.

“Let’s get you home, come on.”

Nico whines and lets Marti do most of the work, not helping much as Marti drags her to her feet, but she goes willingly enough once Marti has thrown an arm around her waist to keep her up. They resume walking, tired and out of synch, but close, even closer than they were before. Marti’s own skin feels warmer now.

“Will your parents be mad?” Marti asks suddenly. “About you drinking?”

“Probably.”

“Shit.”

Nico shrugs.

“I got seven in Latin last week. Hopefully they’re still riding that high.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Seven,” Marti deadpans, and Nico slaps at her arm.

“Shut up,” Nico says, but she’s smiling.

She’s still smiling as they reach her building and she extricates herself from Marti and starts rummaging in her bag for her keys. As she waits, Marti can only lean against the wall looking at the way the street lights play with Nico’s cheekbones, hoping the dark will help conceal what she knows she’s making too obvious.

_But Nico likes girls_ , a hopeful voice inside her head suggests. _Probably not girls who throw basket balls at people, never say sorry, and then lie about_ everything, _though._

Marti sighs, too deep, and Nico turns to look.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

A sly grin, which turns Marti’s knees to jelly.

“Are you sad to see me go?”

“Desperate.”

Nico steps into Marti’s space.

“Thank you for tonight. It was…” She laughs quietly. “A lot.”

“A good lot?”

Nico smiles and leans in, kissing Marti’s cheek. Her lips feel soft, her hair tickle Marti’s neck, and when she pulls back Marti has to fight the urge to pull her back in.

“A very good lot.”

Nico manages to open the gate at the third try, to Marti’s amusement. She turns and waves and Marti waves back, her smile turning soft and then sad, as she watches her walk inside.

She knows what she has to do now.

It doesn’t mean she likes it.

*

_hey, nico. can we meet in person this weekend? i need to talk to you_

_i promise i’ll show up this time_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed <3


	6. Promise?

_hey, nico. can we meet in person this weekend? i need to talk to you_

_i promise i’ll show up this time_

_oh, wow :P_

_villa borghese lake? sunday at 5?_

_ok..._

_you sound scared_

_i'm terrified_

_i’m sure you’re lovely <3_

*

“Is this absolutely necessary?” Marti glares at the nail polish bottles Eva arranged on Marti's bed for inspection.

Eva just sighs, like she was expecting this. She probably was.

“Aren't you about to reveal yourself to the love of your life?”

“She's going to push me into the lake to be eaten by fish, more like.”

“Well, and you want to look your best for it,” Eva says in what she probably thinks is a reasonable tone. “Also, you promised. Unless you want me to do your hair?”

Marti scowls, her hands going up to protect her scalp.

“Well, then.” Eva gestures towards the nail polish bottles. “Pick the one you like the best.”

Marti considers them carefully for a few moments, picking up the ones that feel more promising before putting them down again, unconvinced.

“I mean, I like blue...”

Eva rolls her eyes.

“I have like, six different shades of blue.”

“I know, this is stressful. Let me think.”

In the end, Marti goes for a dark shade called 'Depths of the Ocean' – “At least the fish will like me,” she concludes with a shrug – and offers her right hand to Eva with an unconvinced grimace.

“Oh, come on, you make it look like I'm torturing you.” Eva slides a cloth under Marti's hand not to risk ruining the duvet and starts uncapping the bottle. “I don't know why you're so nervous anyway. Gio says Nicole spent the night making heart eyes at you on Friday.”

“Gio is an idiot who doesn't know what he's talking about.” Marti watches distractedly as Eva coats her pinkie nail in blue: it looks… okay. A bit too flashy for her liking but she can live with it. It takes a moment for it to sink in. “Wait, when did he tell you this?”

Eva doesn't look up from her work, but Marti can see her lips stretch into a pleased smile.

“We texted yesterday.” Her smile widens. “And today.”

Marti raises an eyebrow.

“Ohhh. Did you?” she says, insinuating and amused.

“Stupid.” Eva rolls her eyes, her cheek colouring. “We just texted. But _I think_ he wants to ask me to hang out.”

Marti covers her mouth with her free hand.

“Shocking.”

“Shut up.” Eva snorts. “At least we're not renting a boat in the Villa Borghese lake to sail into the sunset together!”

“I'm not renting anything! We're just... meeting there. So I can say sorry and, well.” Marti sighs, as she tries to picture the afterwards. It doesn’t look like ‘sailing into the sunset together’ in any of the scenarios she can think of. “Probably be told to leave her alone forever, or something.”

“Don't be dumb, you're a catch!” Eva says decisively, glancing up. It doesn’t sound like she’s joking, which has Marti feel pleasantly warm, but also kind of embarrassed.

She snorts, because it’s what she does.

“Right.”

“You _are_ ,” Eva insists. “And, what? You just omitted a couple of things once or twice, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, and made up a million others,” Marti sighs. They’re genuinely painful to think about, all those lies. Marti can’t believe she let things go this far.

“Okay, true. But she'll forgive you, Marti, you'll see. You're the best, and she’s smart, I'm sure she knows that.” Eva finishes retouching the last nail before carefully closing the bottle so it’s safe to reach out and stroke Marti’s cheek. “ _And_ you'll have amazing nails she won't be able to resist. Look at this masterpiece!” she adds, lifting Marti’s right hand with a smile.

Marti giggles.

“Masterpiece, uh?” she observes Eva’s work critically. She has been very precise, despite Marti’s nails being short and kind of bitten down. “Does that mean we can skip the other hand?”

Eva rolls her eyes.

“Not a chance.”

*

Marti arrives at the lake at four o’ clock on the dot, with a good hour to spare. As she’s too nervous to sit down and read, or even just be on her phone, she decides to talk a walk around the park instead.

At four fifteen, she’s already back at the lake: no one in sight, apart from a couple of suits, a man and a woman, wearing sunglasses and talking in hushed tones.

At four thirty, she’s there again: two middle aged men feeding the ducks, no Nico to be seen, so she takes a very stressful, slightly longer walk.

At four fifty, Marti sees her arrive. Nico is on her bike, two long braids trailing after her, as she cycles past where Marti has hastily hidden behind a giant oak tree. She watches her dismount and carefully lean the bike on the kickstand, before strapping her bag on her shoulder and walking up to the lake.

Nico looks around curiously, checks the time, then plops down on the grass, legs crossed, her back to Marti, looking at the lake in front of her.

Marti tells herself she should probably wait until five, as that is the time they agreed on. Then she tells herself Nico is _right there_ and she’s been enough of a coward already.

She walks up to her slowly, as one does when trying not to scare a wild animal, nothing rational about it. Marti stops a few steps away from where Nico is seated, right at the water’s edge, and pauses for a moment, trying to commit to memory the way her dark hair takes up an almost coppery glow in the sunlight.

She’s nervous, that she is, but resigned, rather than scared. This feels like goodbye already.

“Ni?” Marti calls, hesitant, her voice coming out strangely hoarse.

Time slows down as Nico turns, her braids catching the light as she moves. She glances up and squints slightly, lifting a hand to shield her face from the sun. When their eyes meet, there’s no trace of surprise there.

Somehow, _that’s_ what makes Marti panic.

“Hey, Gio,” Nico says quietly, and Marti takes a step back, almost involuntarily, until her back hits the tree trunk behind.

Nico frowns slightly.

“Not that scary, am I?”

“I…” Marti’s brain seems to have slowed to a stop, faced with what is possibly the only scenario it didn’t stop to consider. Marti gulps, her next words barely more than a whisper. “You knew it was me, writing those texts?”

“I... had suspicions: you didn't feel like a boy. Then Ema told me he saw you in our class that day you gave me back the sketchbook.” Nico shrugs and pats the spot next to her on the grass. “Want to sit?”

There’s something about Nico, Marti thinks as she does as she’s told, careful to leave enough space between them, in case Nico doesn’t want her too close. She doesn’t look angry, or disappointed, just… sad, for some reason. Marti doesn’t think it’s her place to ask why.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Marti says, before Nico can ask anything. “I’m so sorry for lying to you. I was so scared, and I know it’s no excuse, but…” She shakes her head, words failing her. “I’m sorry, Ni. I wish I could take it all back.”

Nico looks up slowly.

“All of it?”

“The lying,” Marti answers immediately, cheeks flushing, but not looking away. “I meant… the rest of it.”

 _… i think i like you a bit_ , Marti wrote to Nico, right at the start. Somehow, that too feels inadequate now.

Nico’s lips curl gently, the beginning of a smile, though there’s still something wistful in her gaze Marti can’t quite pinpoint.

“The thing is,” Marti forces herself to say. “There’s more I lied about. It wasn’t just my name, or not having your phone number, or… my phone being broken.”

Nico shakes her head.

“You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”

Marti frowns at that.

“What?”

“It’s just,” Nico sighs. “You looked so scared earlier – in your texts too – and I… I don’t know. I don’t want you to be scared. I keep thinking of Friday night, at what I told you. And I…” Nico’s voice cracks slightly. “I’m always so bad at timing. I didn’t mean to push you to… to admit feelings or…”

“No, Ni, what?” Marti says urgently. “You didn’t push me! I’ve wanted to tell you everything from the beginning. It was just… never the right time, I don’t know. And I made it all so much more complicated! Because at first, all I wanted to tell you was-”

“-that it was you with the ball, that time, in gym class,” Nico says for her, with a small smile.

Marti’s eyes widen comically at that, her mouth falling open in shock.

“You knew about that too?!”

“That bit I knew from the start.” Nico’s tone is almost apologetic now. “In my defense, you couldn’t go to a school bathroom without hearing about it for like a week. That’s why I came to talk to you.”

“At the radio…” Marti says slowly, as she starts to understand.

“Yeah, I was curious.” Nico shrugs, weirdly shy. “So you promise I didn’t push you to say any of this by talking about my BPD?”

“I swear,” Marti confirms, and finds some comfort in the way Nico smiles with her whole face now. “But, wait. If you came looking for me…” Marti frowns, trying to piece everything together in a way that even begins to make sense. “Does that mean you knew who I was?”

Nico looks down at that, her smile soft, fond, like she’s dwelling on a secret: it takes Marti’s breath away. Marti watches her play with the zipper of her messenger bag.

“You really didn’t open the sketchbook when you had it, did you?”

“I told you I didn’t!” Marti says indignantly, before realising. “I mean, I did also tell you my name was Giovanni…” she mumbles, embarrassed.

Nico laughs loudly at that.

“Look at this,” she says, gesturing for Marti to scoot closer. She takes her sketchbook out of her bag and lays it carefully on her knees. The second she opens it, it’s an explosion of colour.

Marti can only stare in awe as Nico quickly turns the pages: abstract pieces, a number of funny looking giraffes, a couple of landscapes – Marti recognises Ponte Milvio but not the skyline on the next page – endless piano keys built into a spiral, a very convincing caricature of Scoppini, what looks like a skull with an arrow stuck inside. Then, as the dates change into 2019, starting in January: flowers, flowers, flowers.

Of all colours, shapes, and sizes, flowers make up most of what Nico has drawn in the past three months, with few exceptions. But Marti can tell this is not what Nico is looking for.

She finally stops on a two-page drawing from the beginning of February: there are flowers again, framing the two pages together along the margins. But it’s what’s inside of them that catches Marti’s eye. On one page, in what Marti now easily recognises as Nico’s loopy handwriting, there is a quotation in English:

_“The flowers have come, and are adorable, dusky, tortured, passionate like you.”_

On the other… well. There’s the drawing of a girl. Sitting with her knees drawn up, her arms around them, looking away, so that only the back of her head is visible. She has messy auburn hair, nicely contrasting with her blue coat and, okay. Nico is too good an artist for Marti not to realise who that is supposed to be.

Suddenly, she feels warm all over, starting from somewhere in the middle of her chest and ending with her tips of her ears. She still doesn’t know how to say it, though. Her hands fly up, unbidden, to play with her fringe.

“These words…” is what she manages in the end, looking up slowly, voice hesitant. “Did you write them?”

Nico smiles, shaking her head.

“They’re from a letter Virginia Woolf wrote to her lover, but they’re about you anyway. I didn’t really know why back then.” Nico glances at the date and smiles like she’s reliving a memory. “I only knew I wanted to draw your smile, but you were always making faces at your friends and never stood still enough.”

As if on cue, Marti pulls a face, making Nico laugh.

“I can stand still enough,” she objects weakly.

Nico’s eyes glint with amusement, eyebrows drawing up. Marti holds her breath as Nico leans in, her eyes drawn to Nico’s lips. Nico stops as the tips of their noses brush together, smiling, and Marti feels her skin prick with anticipation, her heart beating in her throat.

“Promise?” Nico asks, but doesn’t wait for a reply.

She holds the side of Marti’s face with a hand, leaning on the other as they kiss. It’s not unexpected, it can’t be, but it’s a lot anyway, Marti getting lost between the gentle urgency of Nico’s lips on hers and the way Nico is scratching her scalp softly behind her ear.

It takes a couple of second for her to adjust to all these new feelings enough to respond.

She opens her mouth, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, her cheeks flushing at Nico’s pleased gasp, at her sketchbook toppling onto the grass as they move closer. Marti can hear nothing but the sound of their combined breaths.

Marti pats blindly on the grass looking for Nico’s hand to hold as she tentatively reaches out to stroke Nico’s shoulder with the other. She feels Nico’s smile into the kiss, as she squeezes Marti’s hand, one of her braids coming to rest on Marti’s shoulder, as she tilts her head the other way.

They part minutes later, but they feel like hours, Nico planting one kiss at the corner of Marti’s mouth and pulling back, laughing as Marti makes to chase her, eyes still closed. It’s weird how the lazy afternoon sun feels colder without Nico close, and Marti shivers, their bubble bursting, as she becomes aware of the bustle around them.

As she looks up at Nico again, she finds her busy staring at their conjoined hands, smiling to herself.

“You did your nails,” she says, only a hint of teasing behind the words.

Marti rolls her eyes, trying to hide the embarrassment.

“It was more like blackmail, actually.”

“You look pretty,” Nico says, grinning at the way that gets Marti flustered. “But you always look pretty.”

Marti shakes her head, biting her lip so she won’t smile.

“Shut up.”

Nico giggles, lifting Marti’s hand up to kiss it, but her smile fades slowly as she focuses on something behind Marti’s back.

“Okay, don’t turn, but there are people staring behind you,” Nico whispers urgently, looking down, pretending she didn’t notice them.

Marti snorts.

“Creeps.”

“Want to leave? I have the bike.”

“Okay.”

While Nico takes her bag and packs up the sketchbook, Marti goes to retrieve Nico’s bike. Not even a minute passes and yet, out of the corner of her eye, Marti can’t help but notice with a strange mix of relief and annoyance those guys leaving, as there is nothing interesting for them to watch anymore.

“They left,” she mumbles, frowning, as Nico walks over and throws the bag into the front basket.

Nico reaches out to stroke her cheeks, comforting.

“Creeps,” she agrees. Then she offers Marti a small smile as she mounts on the bike. “Gelato?”

Marti’s frown smooths into a smile too.

“Gelato.”

Marti sits on the back, arms around Nico’s waist so she won’t lose balance but also just because she can. She feels Nico’s squirm when Marti’s fingers brush the strip of skin where the hem of her t-shirt rides up, so Marti tickles her to make her jump.

Nico laughs, startled, and slaps Marti’s hands away. But when she turns around to tell her off, she changes her mind halfway through and ends up just kissing Marti’s grin away.

And just like that they’re off, together, as the sun sets quietly behind them – not quite sailing into the sunset, but not too far off either. Nico feels nice, warm and solid and real, and Marti’s hugs her tighter as they cycle through the park, the wind in their faces, the bright colours of the flowerbeds catching her eye now as they never have before.

 _The flowers have come_ , Marti thinks, and kisses Nico’s shoulder blade though the fabric.

She’s going to make a Virginia Woolf radio episode just for Nico, she decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was a ride. Thank you everyone who gave this story a shot and let me know their thoughts: you are 100% the reason I finished this. Hope you enjoyed the ending <3


End file.
